Drifting
by Blizzaga Saga
Summary: MaLink, adult timeline. The war was over, but the scars remained.


_Blizzaga Saga_ : Most of my fics are special to me, but this one might be my favorite. I wrote it years ago on another profile, and now that I'm a bit more mature, I've edited it and brought out what I had trouble articulating back then. Dark themes and PTSD lie ahead, but so do love and hope. Please enjoy.

* * *

Ganondorf mocked Link with a laugh and a flourish of his cape. "These toys are too much for you! I demand you return them to me!"

That was Link's only warning before energy pulsed from the evil wizard's hand and pierced him. It ravaged his insides as it passed through his body, filling his ears with the Gerudo's laughter. Navi abandoned him, unable to withstand the attack, but Link couldn't escape. As the Triforce of Courage glowed intensely enough to burn his hand, he tried to ignore the dark shockwaves that made him want to vomit. His temples throbbed and he gasped with effort as one thought crystallized from the mire of pain: he had to stop Ganon. Everyone and everything depended on it.

Link woke up, and the current of time froze as he realized where he was. There was no Ganondorf, no urgency, no hyperawareness or quick flashes of death. His Triforce piece didn't burn or even tingle, and he felt nothing: no pain, but nothing else either. No cheer. No relief.

Malon held his hand between both of hers as she sat by his bed. "It's okay, Link." She smiled through tears, and he looked away guiltily for having upset her again. "You were having another nightmare."

No, not a nightmare. A memory. Even three weeks after saving Hyrule and moving to Lon Lon Ranch, his recollection of the moments he wished to forget was perfect. Something told him it would be that way for a long time.

"I'll be all right," he said without conviction and stood to do something that might ease his mind.

"Are you sure?"

Staring at her, he saw only himself in the eyes which should have reflected her soul. Why did she ask that instead of reprimanding him for being dishonest? How much longer could she endure his presence before he sucked the life out of her? Feeling suddenly uncomfortable around this person who wasn't Malon, he slipped his hand from hers and nodded silently, and she left him to get ready in peace.

Then time trickled forward again, torturously slow, but no matter how he focused, the ranch didn't have the same level of detail as the ruined marketplace, as the Shadow Temple, as the people and beasts whose lives had bled out before him. Everything swam lazily in the current and lost the brightness and sharpness that made it stand out, and it occurred to him that he might still be dreaming. He felt tired despite the full night's sleep, yet when he lifted the shovel it felt so light that it didn't seem to be there at all, so accustomed was he to swinging a heavy sword with killing intent.

Memories of fights assaulted him. The dawn of a new day brought no promise of freedom from the past.

The Triforce of Courage slept.

* * *

"So you're the strongest man in the world, huh?"

Link stopped digging and resisted the urge to widen his eyes. How had he not noticed someone approaching? Not long ago, that would have cost him his life.

"Not even close," he returned with a smile he hoped was convincing. The strongest man in the world...what a ridiculous idea. Just months ago he hadn't been a man at all, but a scared little boy in a body seven years younger. And he hadn't won his many fights because of an advantage in strength, but because of his courage. It sickened him that people would worship him when all he did was find what everyone had deep down inside themselves.

"That's not what I hear," his challenger—for Link already knew that's what he was here for—persisted. "Though if someone told me you were the Hero of Time before I already knew, I wouldn't believe them," he said with a friendly chuckle. "If you're up to it, I'd like to see how I measure up to you."

"I've had my fill of violence."

The man frowned childishly. "Come on, just for a moment. I came all the way from Lake Hylia to see you. It will be fun! I'll bet you've never fought someone like me before."

He'd win that bet. Most of Link's opponents were monsters, not people. "I'm sorry, but I really don't want to."

"You just need to remember how exciting it feels. You've been cooped up in this ranch for too long. I brought an extra blade if you need one."

Link hardened his heart against the visitor's pleas. Fighting without purpose—for the fun of it, or to see who was stronger—seemed so juvenile and meaningless after everything he'd been through that all his petty spats with Mido felt like they had happened in another life. He didn't understand why people would remind themselves of what Hyrule had been through. He didn't understand why people would remind him of what _he_ had been through.

The sound of a sword slipping from its sheath caught him off-guard, and he silently pleaded with reality. He'd heard that sound too often. It revealed the location of enemies waiting to ambush him, and even now it sent his heart racing. Then the man who was far too enthusiastic to be a true warrior executed a horizontal slash. He did it slowly, as he surely didn't mean to actually hit Link, but Link nonetheless leapt backward.

"Yes! That's the spirit!"

No light exploded from the back of Link's left hand, but something erupted within him. The quick evasive maneuver brought back the dreams, the battles, the war. Anger rushed through him, and for a liberating, horrifying moment he felt the adrenaline that had fueled him during his quest. He was more aware of his surroundings than he'd been since Ganon fell, and what he perceived with the greatest clarity was the fury he was about to unleash. His opponent mistook the change in his demeanor for excitement and raised his sword eagerly.

* * *

Link drifted with the flow of time, hardly aware of anything else caught in the current.

"You lazy son of a bitch!"

Jumping at the abrupt noise, he reached instinctively for his sword, only to find he didn't have it with him. The movement alerted him to the aching of his arms, and he remembered that he had just finished his shift clearing rubble from the ruins of Castle Town. The stinging in his hands hadn't kept him as attentive as he'd hoped.

"You haven't done a thing to help since the war ended!" the knight continued, yelling at a man who sat against the wall of a broken building. "The rest of us are breaking our backs here."

"You mad?" came the slurred reply. "You just need to get laid."

The standing knight swore again and stormed off. Link observed the old man in soiled armor as he sipped from a bottle, and he had a moment of clarity, like he was looking at his own reflection. Link sat beside him wordlessly, feeling an immediate sense of kinship.

A breath of stale ale greeted him instead of kindness, however. "What do you want, freak?" the drunk yelled in his face. Link didn't flinch even as a bit of spit hit his cheek. "Looking for a fight? I promise I'll go easy on you since you're a girl!"

He guffawed at his own joke, and something snapped within Link. The corners of his mouth twitched upward and he chuckled slightly. The old man fell silent in confusion, but Link continued, growing louder until he almost matched the ex-soldier's previous volume. Then the stranger's tenuous grip on reality and his refusal to take anything seriously prompted him to howl and cackle again with him. Link drew deeply from the air and laughed at nothing, because nothing was absolutely hilarious.

* * *

"Have you broken the soil yet?"

Link realized with a start and some embarrassment that he had been staring into space. He gestured to the dropped shovel, hoping to explain that he _had_ been working and he wasn't sure how or why he had stopped, but all that came out was a sheepish, "No. I'm sorry."

Malon directed a sympathetic look toward him, a look he was beginning to loathe. He would much rather have her scold him. "It's okay. Don't worry about it."

"No. I—" As she bent over, he rushed to pick it back up before she could, determined not to make her work any harder than she already did. Now only inches from each other, they froze and held each other's stares. He peered into her eyes, hoping to see more of her than he had that morning. Presumably to do the same with him, she looked straight back.

"You know you're more than welcome here, right?" she asked after a prolonged silence. "You're not a burden on us."

He didn't feel very welcome. Every moment here wore at his patience, though that was certainly no fault of hers. "I know."

"I hope you'll stay here until you feel more like yourself." As she said this, she touched his arm, sending nervous shivers down his spine. He tried not to think about how pretty she managed to be even in work clothes and focused instead on wishing she wouldn't touch him—not that he didn't enjoy it, but the contact made it harder to say no to her.

He didn't belong here, but what would he do if he left? During the war, Link had wanted more than anything to stop fighting and go back home, but now that he had his wish he couldn't recall why he wanted it in the first place. His dreams and hobbies in the Kokiri Forest felt empty to the point where he couldn't understand why they ever appealed to him.

"Besides," she added in a lighter tone, "if I let you run free, everyone in Hyrule might end up like the so-called fighter who just left."

His eyes lit up as the teasing part of Malon's personality shone through—she hadn't so much as called him Fairy Boy since he told her of Navi's departure—but it left as soon as it came. Still, it was enough. "You couldn't keep me away from you for long."

This time he listened when his thoughts told him to pull her close. She blushed lightly at the unexpected contact. Link thought it was cute when her face matched her hair.

* * *

Unless his companion made a joke at their expense (in which case Link would offer an apologetic glance that went ignored), Link paid no attention to the passersby who scratched their heads at the Hero of Time hanging out with the town drunk. Jerrod was too busy eating the meal Link brought him to be bothered by it.

"And then, I shit you not," Jerrod announced, not noticing how loud he was, "he passed out right in the middle of having sex!"

Link laughed awkwardly, and the last of the teenage girls who sat with them left in disgust, finally deciding that spending time with Hyrule's hero wasn't worth it. Link didn't feel too bad about it, but Jerrod whined dramatically.

"Was it something I said? Link, I don't know what made all these lovelies come here today, but we should hang out more. I never got a chance to do anything with them!"

To an outsider it was vulgarity for the sake of vulgarity. Link had tried several times to explain Jerrod's disposition to the people who put him down, but they didn't—couldn't—understand as Link did. Some attempted to be compassionate, thinking the man was depressed or deranged. Link wished the truth was that happy, that simple, for Jerrod didn't sit and joke and drink all day because he was lazy: he did it because he was capable of nothing else, because it was all that delayed the inevitable breaking of his spirit. He joked like nothing was wrong because not thinking about what had happened was the only way to keep from breaking down.

Unfortunately, Link couldn't seem to relax in the same way. He couldn't make jokes of his own or be glad for the company of others. He stared at the back of his left hand, but the Triforce still didn't glow.

* * *

The interior of Malon's house faded to gray and brown in the soft glow of dusk. Barely able to see and desperately seeking his light, his purpose, he stumbled up the staircase toward the closet he went to in secret every night.

The Iron Boots reflected the last of the daylight to get his attention, standing upright as though waiting to be used, but he fixed his gaze on the Master Sword instead. As though trying to fit in with his dimming surroundings and new lifestyle, it didn't glow with the power to repel evil, and he wondered if it hid its feelings as he often did. He peered into its clean surface as if trying to read its emotions, but it revealed nothing. It merely slept, frozen in time like every other aspect of his life.

"Link?"

The gentle voice came from behind him. He cursed silently. "Hello, Malon."

"What are you doing up here?" She was quiet, nothing like her usual brash, charming self, and he recognized the concern in her tone.

"Checking the Master Sword."

"To see if there's any evil nearby?" He nodded, not looking at her until she came to his side. Her hand touched his arm, and he found he couldn't avert his eyes when she directed hers at him. "It's not glowing, is it?" She must have already known the answer, but he told her anyway. "Nothing's going to happen, Link. Ganondorf is gone. You don't have to fight anymore."

She was wrong. Evil—Ganondorf or otherwise—never rested, so why should he? "I'm just being careful."

"Please come to bed with me," she whispered. He couldn't bear it when she looked at him with those sad, worried, beautiful eyes. "Nothing bad is going to happen."

He agreed. Nothing bad would happen...while he was around. Malon had to be protected. It was his main reason for staying here. He didn't tell her that every time he left her presence he feared he would find her mangled and skewered when he returned.

"You haven't been sleeping enough," she admonished, leading him into her room.

No, he wanted to say. He'd been careful to sleep just enough to stay well-rested and no more. Such was the price of vigilance. But he was smart enough not to tell her that.

"I'm fine. Just a hard day."

"You don't have to do all this. The war's over." He knew that. But there were still threats. "You've done so much already." Her lips caressed his and he responded automatically, with little feeling. It only made her kisses more passionate. "I hate to see you hurt yourself like this. I don't know what I'd do if you..."

What had he done to deserve someone like her looking after him? Nothing. He had done nothing to deserve someone so caring, just like the Sages had done nothing to deserve their horrible fates. Why did the goddesses grant him happiness and not them?

At once he felt vulnerable and empty, and letting his hair cover his eyes, he wished he were anywhere but here. But the arms circling him were warm, and he couldn't avoid looking at her forever.

"Why do you hate yourself?" It wasn't loud, but it pierced him like a scream, and he wondered how she had figured that out without his speaking. Why couldn't he hide from her? "Do you think you're a bad person?"

"No..."

"Do you think you don't matter?" He didn't know how to answer. "Because I think you're the nicest..." She planted a kiss on his cheek. "...sweetest..." Another kiss. "...most wonderful boy I've met. You're so important to me, Link."

As she trailed kisses from his face to his neck, showing him how much he meant to her, he ran fingers through her hair, eventually bringing his hand to rest on her cheek. Her hands went under his tunic. They had done this before, but never had either attempted to remove the other's clothing. Nevertheless, Link's tunic was soon over his head and then on the floor, and he started paying attention to more parts of her body than just her face.

Still, part of him didn't want this to continue; despite Jerrod's many colorful tales, he had no idea where was going or what it meant for them. Sensing his unease, she nibbled his ear and spoke softly into it. "Take what you want tonight. It's okay to be selfish sometimes."

He reluctantly considered himself well-traveled. In his experience, men often suffered from not trying hard enough, and women suffered from trying too hard. Malon was working so hard just to make him feel. She was smothering her personality for him, and he didn't want her to do that anymore. "That goes for you too."

She grinned naughtily. "What do you think I'm doing?"

Something sparked inside of him. Exercise had done nothing, nor had pain. Malon was one of the only things that made him feel connected to anything. He wanted to see what she saw, feel what she felt.

He wanted to see her.

* * *

"Sir Makalov—"

"My name is Jerrod," he hissed, losing his facetious manner for the first time.

"Sorry," Link replied quickly, but it was too late. He had pierced the illusion they created, the world where Jerrod had never been a knight and had never been traumatized by war. The happy man he described in his stories of mischief and sexual escapades was gone forever, washed away by the current of time. Only Jerrod remained, looking decades older than he had seconds ago. He hung his head, giving the impression that he had drunk too much, but while that was true, it wasn't the reason he cast his eyes downward.

"Good men died," Jerrod lamented, finally acknowledging the past.

Link grunted his agreement, the past catching up with him as well. Darunia was much stronger than him. He deserved to win his fights and stay in Hyrule instead of becoming a Sage. Nabooru was more skilled than Link with a blade, and she deserved to live too. Saria was kinder and wiser. Impa was more dedicated to protecting Hyrule. Even Ruto was willing to forsake her own romantic feelings for the greater good. Really, all Link had done was persevere. He was the one who allowed Ganondorf to touch the Triforce in the first place.

He had no right to live when such great people had died.

"You're too young to be doing this."

Link needed no explanation for what he meant. "So are you," he countered, though Jerrod was far from young.

He looked at Castle Town with a critical eye. Like Ganondorf's skin, changed to a sickly green color by dark magic, it was forever tainted by evil. The world was broken and useless, and presently he realized how futile it was attempting to escape what he had seen and done when everything reminded him. Even the loud noise of the knight yelling at Jerrod earlier had startled him into trying to draw a weapon he didn't have.

Sir Makalov's corpse pounded the earth with his fist and growled in rage, turning away from Link. "You still have your own stories to make. Don't waste your time listening to mine. Get the hell out of here."

* * *

What was the correct path? Why couldn't he see it? He switched goals every day, one moment wanting to forget like Jerrod and the next wanting to become a warrior again, for that was all he remembered which still held meaning. His life oscillated between unexplainable fatigue and a desperate need to push himself to exhaustion. What would Navi say?

 _Link, you're being an idiot._

Probably. But it was hard not to be an idiot when he couldn't figure out the smart thing to do. What he did know was that this ranch, this safe haven, this perfect idyllic lifestyle was making him soft. Having become a light sleeper during his journey, he was surprised when Malon woke him up each morning before he heard her come in. If a monster came to his room while he slept, he wouldn't wake before it cut his throat. He wouldn't wake in time to save Malon.

He never thought he would miss having enemies ambush him at every turn, but every one of those ambushes made him more prepared for the next one. What kind of person was he becoming if he _wanted_ that to happen? For that matter, who the hell was he? Was he Link, the child who was forced to grow seven years in the blink of an eye? Or was he the adult, the Hero of Time, Hyrule's sworn protector? Jerrod had chosen between his past and present selves, so why couldn't he?

He wasn't helping himself by staying here, and he wasn't helping Malon either. Like he had done to Jerrod, he had aged her, and he couldn't bear to see the shell of her former self she had become. With him gone, she could become Malon again, free to do things other than babysitting someone who would only bring her down.

His mind made up, he left for her house to gather his belongings, but stopped when the corral came into view; someone was singing.

His mind went blank, focusing only on what he saw and heard. The horses pounded into the earth as they ran, and a young woman ran with them, her long hair trailing behind her like a fiery mane. She laughed as she came to a stop, doubling over to catch her breath and smiling the whole time.

It was her. The real her. "Malon..."

Spellbound, he approached. With her back to him, she didn't notice until his boots sounded directly behind her. "I'm not in the mood, Link. Unless you're here to apologize for shoving me into the hay when you thought we were being attacked, leave me alone."

Her anger only made his smile wider, for it was yet more of her that he had missed. She'd been so afraid to snap at him these past few weeks that one would never guess she actually had a temper, and he was overjoyed to see it again even if it was directed at him. Her back was still turned to him, and he imagined that her frustration showed clearly on her face. He had to get her to look at him. He had to let her know how wonderful this was, how wonderful _she_ was.

"Stop it! Put me down!" she screamed as he lifted her by the waist without thought or hesitation. At first she kicked out viciously, but when he spun her in circles in the air, she eventually started laughing. He laughed too, quieting only when he tired and had to put her down. "What's gotten into you?" she asked, giggling and at last gracing him with her visage, but he only stared back and panted. Nervous and excited under his gaze, she tucked her hair behind her ear and fiddled with the skirt of her work dress. His heart pounded. Was she _trying_ to look that cute?

He couldn't help grinning like a fool. Malon's breath caught as she realized his cheer was genuine, and hope visibly welled up inside her, restoring youth and light to her face. It welled up inside Link too, and for once he stopped noticing the flow of time, for it was irrelevant. The answer was neither child Link nor adult Link, neither forgetting nor more violence: it was Malon. Nothing had ever been so simple and obvious.

When he stepped forward to embrace her, however, he suddenly found himself on his rear and looked up, dumbfounded.

"That's for pushing me," she teased, bending at the waist to lean over the fallen hero. Her brooch dangled from her neck, and with a triumphant smirk he pulled it and brought her down to his level. Before her fright dissipated he had already stolen a peck on the lips. Once she realized what happened, her shocked expression melted into an amorous one as she sank further into him and returned the gesture with a slow, loving kiss.

Link ignored his fear of affection this time. Having spent the last seven years of his life asleep in the Sacred Realm, he didn't know much about love, but he knew she felt something strong for him and that he felt something for her too. He wanted to keep her safe, but more than that, he wanted to make her happy. And if that meant loving her, then he would do that as well.

Her hair spilled softly around him, and her hand held his cheek gently, sliding further up his head until her fingers ran through his hair just beneath his hat, and then she had his hat in her hand and was running off with it laughing. Stunned once more, Link stood and gave chase.

Somehow, he didn't think loving her would be that hard.

He knew his recovery would be a long process with many relapses. Even now, death and violence lurked at the edges of his mind. It took more effort to feel joy and affection than it used to, and he doubted he would ever stop being overprotective or jumping at shadows.

But the sun was a little brighter, and he saw everything a bit more clearly. As he yelled after Malon about the unfairness of using Epona to evade him, he remembered that moments like these were the meaning he lost sight of, the moments he'd had in mind back when he wished more than anything for the war to end. She charged forward, and he splashed through the current after her.


End file.
